As Old as You Feel
by Sevfan
Summary: Draco hasn't been himself, and Harry has a good idea why. Slash.


Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by J. K. Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoat Books and Warner Brothers, Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

Thank you to WeasleyWench for the most excellent and thorough betaing of this story. Hugs to you, my dear!

This story was written in honour of C Dumbledore's birthday, using his chosen words cantankerous, eternal, and arbitrary.

**As Old as You Feel**

Harry looked up and peered at Draco over the top of his fbook. He, too, was meant to be reading, but Harry could see that Draco was doing anything but. His reading glasses halfway down his nose, Draco was staring out into space, obviously lost deeply in thought. Draco had been quiet of late, often appearing preoccupied and distant, and perhaps even a bit sad. Harry knew his husband very well, so any change in mood was immediately obvious. In this case, he even had a good hunch as to the reasons for Draco's altered demeanour.

"Fancy a cuppa?" asked Harry, closing his book and placing it on the table. When no reply was forthcoming, Harry said, "Draco?" When that was again met with silence, he called, rather loudly, "Hey, Malfoy!"

Momentarily startled, Draco blinked and shook his head, coming back from the faraway place he had been. "Oh, sorry, Harry. Did you say something?"

Harry reached over and placed a reassuring hand on Draco's knee. "I just asked if you'd like a cup of tea, that's all."

"That would be lovely. I'll get it," replied Draco, making a move to stand.

But Harry was already up and on his way to the kitchen. Giving Draco a peck on the forehead, he said, "It's okay. I've got it."

Not long afterwards, Draco was happily sipping his tea and munching on a biscuit. "Merlin bless the Muggles."

"Whatever for?" asked Harry, perplexed.

"For their biscuits. I really don't think I could live without my chocolate digestives and Jammie Dodgers. And to think of all the years that I missed out on them," said Draco.

"And here I thought it was _me f_that you couldn't live without," said Harry, feigning disappointment.

Draco rolled his eyes. "That's a given, Harry. You'll always be first on my list," he said, after a short pause, adding, "followed closely by Muggle biscuits.

"Thanks for clarifying that. I thought I had been displaced." They both chuckled and then were quiet again.

Draco broke the silence. "I was thinking that I might spell my hair blond again."

"That's a bit of an arbitrary decision, isn't it?" asked Harry.

"I've been thinking about it for quite some time, actually. Do you have a problem with it?"

"As a matter of fact, I do. Your hair is beautiful the way it is, Draco. It's pure white, like the driven snow, and absolutely gorgeous. I'll be very upset if you change it."

"Oh. I suppose I'll leave well enough alone, then," replied Draco witfh a disappointed air.

"Good. I don't want to hear anything more about it. I have to ask, though, if my salt-and-pepper hair bothers you. Were you hinting that I should change _my_ hair?"

"No! Not at all. I love your hair the way it is, too, Harry. You look very distinguished, and as handsome as ever. This isn't about you at all." Draco looked away.

Harry stood, moved to the table, and, pushing the tea tray out of the way, sat down and took Draco's hands in his. "This is why you've been so quiet lately. It's all about your birthday tomorrow, isn't it?" Draco slowly nodded. "Are you feeling a bit…um, well, I mean—"

"Old?" Draco interrupted. "Go ahead; say it. Yes, I'm old!"

"Sixty is hardly old."

"Easy for you to say."

"Yes, it is," he said firmly. "Don't forget that I'm not that far behind you."

"And you don't feel old? Not even a little bit?"

Harry shook his head. "No. I feel pretty much the same as always."

"Well, aren't you the lucky one!" Draco said sarcastically. "Tomorrow I turn sixty. Sixty, Harry! Tomorrow I'll be an old man."

Harry brought one of Draco's hands to his lips and kissed it tenderly. "No, you won't, my darling. There is no reason for you to feel like this. Draco Malfoy, you are a long, long way from being old."

"But—"

"No, hear me out first. You're still the handsome, vital man that I fell in love with all those years ago. Yes, you've changed, but for the better. Your inner and outer beauty has blossomed. There isn't a day that goes by that I'm not thankful you're my husband."

"I feel the same way about you, Harry."

Harry smiled, giving Draco's hand a squeeze. "And besides, I don't think an old man could have shagged me into the mattress like you did last night."

Draco smirked as only he could. "That is true."

"You'll always be the eternal stud, Draco. Lucky me."

Draco's eyes had brightened, but Harry knew he wasn't completely convinced. "Granted, some things are still in good working order, but other things, not so much."

Harry scoffed. "Like what?"

"I have aches and pains that weren't there before."

"Everyone does, Draco. Are they keeping you from doing anything in particular?"

"No, not really."

"What else?"

Draco thought for a short while. "I can't read a bloody thing anymore without those damned glasses!" he exclaimed, pointing to the offending item.

"Sorry, you'll get no sympathy from me on that account. I've been wearing glasses for as long as I can remember."

"Well, I don't like them."

"Sorry. No sympathy."

Sighing, Draco asked quietly, "Don't you wish you could go back and do it all over again?"

"You mean to when we hated each other? To when I didn't know if I was goifng to live from one minute to the next? No, thanks very much. Quite frankly, I'm surprised that you would."

"I didn't mean that far back. No, I wouldn't go through all that again for anything. I didn't know if I would make it either. There were plenty of times when I was sure I wouldn't. No, I meant going back to when we first got together."

"That was something, wasn't it? I'm surprised that we didn't suffer death by shagging," said Harry.

"It would have been a great way to go, though."

Harry laughed. "True. But as great as those days were, I still wouldn't want to do it all over again. I prefer living in the present, enjoying whatever life sends our way. We have a great many years ahead of us, Draco, with lots of surprises to come, both good and bad. I want to share them all with you. Believe me when I say that you aren't old; _we_ are still young. Okay? We can discuss this again the night before your hundredth birthday, if you'd like, though. But you'll have to remind me."

Draco chuckled. "It's a deal."

"Feel better?" asked Harry.

"A bit, I suppose," replied Draco.

"But there's something else?"

Draco nodded and then moved to the French doors that overlooked the starlit gardens. "Gwennis is having a baby."

"Yes, I know that. I _was_ there the night she and Michael told us."f

Draco spun and grabbed Harry by the upper arms. "But that will make us grandfathers!"

"Yes, it will. Does the thought of being a grandfather disturb you, Draco?"

"When I think of a grandfather, I picture a cantankerous old git with a cane and a long white beard! I don't want to be like that, Harry," said Draco pleadingly.

"We've established that you're not old, right?" asked Harry, to which Draco nodded. "And the long white beard is too Dumbledore, so that's out. You don't need a cane either. However, I'm very sorry to tell you that you've been cantankerous for as long as I've known you."

"Hey!"

"Only speaking the truth, Draco, and you know it."

"I suppose I can be a bit difficult at times."

"At times." Harry winked. "Do you remember the day we brought Michael home from the orphanage? How thrilled and excited we were?"

"And scared shitless? Yes, I remember very well."

"So this will be the same, but without the scared shitless part. We made pretty damned good dads, and I think we'll make even better granddads."

"You think?" asked Draco uncertainly.

"I know we will. You, Mr Malfoy, will make one hell of a sexy grandfather, if I do say so myself." Harry pulled Draco into his arms and kissed him soundly.

"And so will you, Mr Potter." Giving Harry's bum a squeeze, Draco asked, "So you really don't think I'm old?"

"Not at all. At sixty, you're still a spring chicken."

"A what?" Draco asked, clearly perplexed at Harry's words.

"It's a Muggle expression. It means that you're still young."

"Hmm. Interesting." Draco mulled the expression over for a bit and then said, "Rooster. I'm definitely a rooster. And I don't know about spring. Perhaps more like late summer."

Harry burst out laughing. "Okay. I can live with that. Happy birthday, my late-summer rooster!"

"Thanks, Harry. For everything."

"You're most welcome. Feeling better?"

"Yes, much better."

"Good."

"Just one more thing, though, Harry."

"Yes?"

"There's the matter of my present…"

"Who says you're getting a present?" asked Harry, grinning.

"Hey! I'm sixty tomorrow; I think that calls for something extra special."

"Perhaps."

"What did you get me?"

"You'll find out tomorrow."

"But I don't want to wait! I want my present now."

"Draco, you're being cantankerous."

Draco blushed. "I can wait until tomorrow."

"I thought so. Say goodnight, Draco."

"Goodnight, Draco," replied Draco cheekily.

Laughing, Harry hugged the madly crowing Draco and led him up the stairs to bed.

**Fin**


End file.
